


Innamorata - Come; Let Us Adore Him

by supersoakerx



Series: Innamorata [4]
Category: The Man Who Killed Don Quixote (2018)
Genre: 3 x OCs, Breakfast, Christmas, Cunnilingus, Dancing, Driving, F/M, Fluff, Gifts & Presents, Making Out, Meeting the Parents, Morning Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Singing, Storytelling, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, eating pussy, imagine if rom-coms showed the sex, meta jokes, meta references, shitty punctuation for Toby, sucking dick, that are probably all bad, tipsy!Toby, voluptuous!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27991290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersoakerx/pseuds/supersoakerx
Summary: This is how you and Toby spend Christmas Day together x
Relationships: Toby Grisoni/Reader, Toby Grisoni/You, Toby Grummett/Reader, Toby Grummett/You
Series: Innamorata [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911028
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I made a meal for my bigger babes!  
> It’s a fluff sandwich on smut bread, seasoned with feels I picked fresh from my garden this morning - they will come later, trust me.  
> For now, eat at my table!  
> This is the first of four parts of Christmas Day with Toby, and excuse the blasphemous title I couldn’t help myself xx  
>  **XXXX**  
>  Here’s some inspo pics for what I imagine Toby x Tesorina’s penthouse looks like: [one](https://static2.mansionglobal.com/production/media/article-images/271951bdf0aee63c391512807a911933/large_TEN50_Penthouse-1.jpg) // [two](https://static2.mansionglobal.com/production/media/article-images/fbd78a7c89da49761cbdc0744b8019da/large_TEN50_Penthouse-21.jpg) – this thing is hyperlinked up the wazoo I hope you enjoy it xx

“Morning, baby,” Toby murmurs onto your neck.

You stir, ever so slightly, from sleep. His breath is hot on your skin, in a soothing, comforting way. His long, sturdy, hot-blooded form is pressed to your back. His morning baritone reverberates through your bodies so deep and low you feel his voice in your chest. His thick, hot need for you presses at the seam of your cheeks.

He whispers then, so softly, “merry Christmas, _tesorina_ ,” and presses slow, gentle kisses down the shell of your ear.

You hum, sleepily, “mmh. Mmorning, Toby.”

“’s Christmas Day, baby,” he says, more breath than voice as he tracks tender kisses down your ear to your lobe and tilts his pelvis into your fleshy ass cheeks.

You’d learned early on that Toby always slept naked. He just liked it that way: didn’t like things to constrict him while he slept and, he’d said, liked the feel of his bare skin against you, whether you were clothed or not. Eyes still closed, you realise that your slinky, sexy nightie had ridden up over your ass during the night, a fact Toby planned to take full advantage of. You press your bare ass back against his thick, swollen cock, smiling as you murmur, “Merry Christmas, baby. You got a present for me?”

Toby hums a deep, husky laugh, which vibrates through your chest. He slides a palm down your side, down the side of your thigh, over every curve and dip and rise, and then back up, murmuring, “mmh, for you, _tesorina_. All yours.” He grinds into your meaty ass. “You wanna open it, baby?” His hot palm skims over your ribs to cradle one of your breasts, and he subtly squeezes the soft, yielding flesh, murmuring throatily into your ear, “’cause I’d love to give it to you now.”

You arch into him, pressing your ass to his dick and your heavy breast to his cradling palm. You grind on his cock, sighing, teasing, “oh, _Toby_. Where’s your patience, baby? You don’t wanna wait until tonight—,”

“Hhmmh.”

“—by the fire, near the tree?”

The image that flashes in Toby’s mind sends a spark of desire right the way through his stiff dick: you on your back on the plush rug, your thighs up around his head while he buries his face between your legs. “Jesus, baby,” he gasps out, grinding his dick into your cheeks and teasing your nipple into a stiff bud. “Wanna fuck you, _tesorina_ , ‘n’ then I wanna make you breakfast.”

This takes you by surprise, and you roll over into him, almost all the way on your back.

“Mm,” Toby hums, “hey, baby.”

“You wanna cook me breakfast, Toby?” Your man has many talents, but preparing and cooking food is not one of them. He’s the first to suggest going out to eat, for any meal of the day, jumping at the opportunity to dangle at the end of your arm and show you off to the world. For him to offer this now—

“’s Christmas, baby,” Toby murmurs. “Lemme take care of my woman.” He presses a kiss to the side of your chin, just below the corner of your mouth.

Warmth fills your heart and you sigh his name, rolling the rest of the way into him. His hair is loose in the morning, messy from sleep, and you run your fingers through it, brushing the silky locks back from his face as you place sloppy kisses to his chin and around the edges of his moustache.

Toby hums breathily, delighting in your attention, and skims down the silky nightie covering your round belly to dip between your thick thighs. He nudges you onto your back by pressing his nose into your shoulder, and when you’re laying flat beneath him, he leans into your ear and murmurs, “let’s get you wet, _mamí_.”

A soft moan escapes you as Toby trails over your pussy lips with delicate tenderness, so slow and gentle, the big pads of his fingers grazing up and down and over your folds. He murmurs, “play with your tit, baby,” as he smacks hot kisses down your décolletage, over the fleshy swell of your full breast before licking a line over your closest hard nipple through the lace soft cup of your nightie.

Toby feels the first wave of sexy, slippery slick seep from your pussy and wet his fingertips, and can’t contain his groan. You pull at the soft lace restraining your breasts, tugging the cups down and exposing your bare nipples to him.

“Uhgh, yeah,” Toby murmurs huskily, eyeing your breasts and your hand coming up to cup the one Toby can’t get to right now. “Flick it, like I do,” he says, before latching his lips around your nipple nearest his mouth and swirling his tongue around the swollen bud. He watches your thumb brush over your other nipple while he coats your pussy lips with your glossy cum until he’s certain you’re shiny.

God, he’s so fucking hard—and like you’d just read his mind, you make a fist around Toby’s heavy cock and pull up and down the thick length of it.

He grunts. Toby drags his index finger up your silky slit, gathering your slick and smoothing wet circles over your stiffening clit with it—at the same time as he flicks his pointed tongue up over your nipple.

You arch and tilt your hips, pushing your tit into his face and your clit onto his finger. You moan, and Toby groans onto your flesh.

He pulls from your breast and trails hot, wet kisses back up your chest to your ear, licking your skin as he goes. At your ear, he murmurs while he keeps rubbing your clit, “you ready for my dick, baby?”

You gasp and sigh breathily, “yes, Toby.”

“This pussy wants my cock?”

You rub your clit up and down his finger. “Tobias,” you breathe, “ _sì_ , baby.”

Toby’s on you quicker than you can really register. It’s all a flurry of sheets and kisses and legs and _him_ , immediately desperate for you. Like if he doesn’t slide into your pussy in the next five seconds, he’ll stop breathing.

He groans on repeat as he presses hot, wet kisses into your neck, little breathy murmurs of, ‘ _mh, baby. Oh, baby_ ,’ over and over again as he gets his legs between yours and lines up the head of his dick with your slick, hot opening.

Your wrap your legs around his hips, and without hesitation Toby slides his thick cock into your eager pussy.

“Jesus Christ!” Toby gasps, your pussy swallowing him whole. His voice catches, his breath hitches, and to distract himself from immediately busting it he nuzzles into your neck, kissing and licking your skin, getting accustomed to the tight wrap of your pussy around his throbbing dick.

You moan in pleasure as Toby’s fat length stretches your pussy deliciously, and you lift your pelvis to drag him impossibly deeper.

Toby’s hands slide under your shoulder blades as he noisily makes out with the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His back curves as he pushes into you, crushing your pelvis with his before he draws his hips back, dragging his cock out along your fluttering walls.

“Ohh, _God_ ,” he groans as he rocks his dick back into your pussy—a slow, measured thrust, letting you feel every inch of his desire. “Fuck,” he mutters when your hands cling to his broad shoulders, wrapping up around his back to keep him anchored to you.

“Toby,” you groan, tilting your hips up to meet his every thrust. You tell him how good he feels, how big he is, how long and thick and hard his cock is.

A deep, shuddering groan rips through his chest. “Just for you, baby. All for you, _tesorina_.” Toby’s hot breath fans over your neck. “Gnhh, baby. You feel so fucking good, oh my God.”

Your fingers squeeze on his sturdy shoulders, and you moan when he licks a long, wet line up your neck.

“Love how you, hhug me tihhght.” Toby nibbles on your earlobe, huffing into your ear. “Perfect little. Tight pussy for me.”

You hold each other close, sounds of pleasure tumbling out of your mouths in short, breathy moans and grunts. Toby’s thrusts are languid, unhurried, almost lazy, and the pair of you revel in the deep push and pull of his dick as he repeatedly, slowly, bottoms out inside you.

He caresses your neck with his lip and tongue, and he knows his whiskers tickle and scratch your delicate skin. He’s careful not to mark you up too bad before you go visit his family, but he’s obsessed with finding the end of your pussy. He drives in particularly deep, and when you moan out loudly and arch into him, he feels that tug in the pit of his gut.

That pull that you always draw from him, far sooner than he wants to give in to it.

He grunts. “Baby, I’m’a flip you over,” he murmurs into your neck, “want you on top, _tesorina_.”

You hum and tell him yes, and Toby grips you tight. He shifts and moves and you follow, rolling with him as he pulls your body on top of his.

“Mmff, that’s right,” he murmurs as he lifts his pelvis up into yours. He stuffs pillows behind his head so he can be closer to you, accounting for your difference in height.

Fully seated on Toby’s cock, you roll your hips in a circle, and duck down to the crook of his neck. It’s your turn, now: you get to lavish his sensitive skin with kisses.

“Oh. _Fffuck_. Baby.” Toby throws his head back onto the pillows as you work his cock and nuzzle into his neck. “ _God_ yes,” he mumbles your name. “Un- _fuck_ in-believable.”

You hum onto his skin, and start to rock your hips forward and back. You drag your slick pussy along his hard dick, and slide the head of his cock along a spot deep inside you. Laying flush on Toby’s sturdy body like this, moaning and puffing into his neck, you grind your clit on his pubis.

It sends Toby rambling, and he gropes and squeezes your ass cheeks as he talks through his pleasure. “ _Fuck_ yeah. Grind on me, baby. Yeahyeah. Rock like that.”

“Mmmh, Toby,” you lick and kiss his earlobe, sending shivers up his spine. He lifts his hips just so, and your pleasure catches, sparking into a flame that burns brighter, and brighter, and—

“Yeah, right there. That’s it, huh baby?”

You groan his name, a deep and guttural sound as that friction, inside and out, stokes your orgasm to bursting.

A rumbling shudder seizes Toby’s voice as your pussy gushes and tightens on his dick. “Ahf- _fuck_ you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Shit. I’m so close, Toby,” you pant, chasing your bliss—and his.

“Yeah you are,” Toby growls. He squeezes your cheeks tight and rocks your ass against him harder, pushing up into your grinding hips. “Can fuckin’ feel it, baby. You’re right there, aren’t you? Come on ‘n’ do it for me.”

You cry out his name.

“Yeahh. Got a big cock, right here for you, baby. Cum all over it. I’m ready for it. Come on, baby.”

The simmering in your core pushes over into boiling, and your orgasm flares through your body. Your pussy slickens and seizes, convulsing in blissful spasms that trigger Toby’s own release. He holds you close as he spills inside you, and you cling to him as your pussy clenches around his twitching cock.

You rock against each other, moaning, grunting, sighing, panting—leaking and dripping until the last of the pleasure-laden contractions subside.

You peck a kiss to the tip of his nose, then settle onto his chest.

Toby wraps his arms around you. He sighs your name contentedly, pressing a kiss to your hair, and murmuring, “c’m’ere.” You lay together, wrapped up in each other, until breathing returns to normal for the pair of you. You’re both sticky, a little hot and sweaty, and need to move. Toby settles his big warm palms on your ass cheeks, clutches your yielding flesh and releases before saying, “you clean up, _tesorina_. Then come meet me in the kitchen.”

**XXXX**

You love seeing Toby in such a good mood. As you descend the stairs to the open-plan living space, you see Toby whirling around the kitchen, humming a tune to himself as he twirls this way and that: plucking toast from the toaster, adding a touch more oil to the pan, bobbing his head in time with his imagined melody as he pours orange juice into two glasses. And all this wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue, satin boxers.

The sizzling sound and sumptuous smell of Toby’s cooking wafts over to you as you near the kitchen island. You were only in the bathroom for a few minutes, but Toby has already toasted slices of sourdough, charred cherry tomatoes on the vine, sliced avocado—and was now in the final stages of scrambling light, fluffy eggs.

“Hungry, baby?” Toby asks you, not able to stop his eyes raking over your form as you pad toward him in the nightie he just fucked you in, and matching silky robe on top. You’d tried to un-sex-ruffle your hair, but you’d left it a little messy.

His heart clenches in his chest.

“Famished, Toby. Someone wore me out before I even got out of bed today.” The warm, sexy smile you meet him with just about sends him into the stratosphere. You say, “this smells incredible.”

He hums happily, his mouth and eyes crinkling into a broad, joyful smile.

“What can I do?” you offer.

“No, no, no,” Toby mutters, then catches your eyes. “Well… maybe you can come here, ‘n’ gimme a kiss, _tesorina_. Then siddown and look pretty while you eat your breakfast.” He points at the barstools with the spatula.

You can’t stop beaming at him. Relaxed looks so good on Toby.

**XXXX**

After you and Toby clear the plates and glasses and cutlery away, you check on your _panettone_ in the plastic container in the fridge.

It had held its form overnight, and looked as delicious as it did when you first took it out of the oven yesterday. You’d had to bat Toby’s hungry eyes and sticky fingers away from it, reminding him that it was for Christmas lunch and he couldn’t have any yet. Even now, he must’ve sensed that the sweet fruity bread was on the horizon, because you felt him press up against your backside as you bent over and looked into the fridge.

“I think I’ll do the icing sugar just before we leave. What do you think?” you query him, gazing at the hard-earned product of your baking efforts. You’d never made _panettone_ before, but when Toby cooled off trying to take a slice, he’d reassured you his family would love it—especially the thought and time you put into making it.

“Think I’ve got some icing sugar for these buns,” Toby murmurs, flipping your nightie up over your hips and sliding his palms in big warm circles over your bare ass cheeks.

“Toby,” you tsk at him, trying and failing to keep a chastising tone in your voice. “We’ve got places to be today, baby.”

“Not yet, _tesorina_.” Toby gropes and massages your supple flesh in his hands.

You lean up, closing the fridge door, and without missing a beat Toby’s hands slide around your front, up to cradle your ample breasts beneath the soft lace cups.

“We’ve still got time,” he murmurs into your ear, gently massaging your breasts and smoothing over them with soft fingers. When you murmur his name in response, only the faintest hint of warning tinges your voice, and Toby knows he’s just about got you where he wants you. You’re almost there. So he presses closer to your back, and slides the straps of your nightie down your shoulders.

You sigh through your nose, but you don’t tell him to stop, so Toby keeps going.

He eases the thin strappy things further down your arms, and your breasts almost fall free of the soft lace containing them. He trails large, warm hands inside the lace cups, and gently lifts your breasts free. From behind he nuzzles into the crook of your neck as he cups your breasts and glides his fingertips over your bare nipples. He licks your skin and murmurs onto the wet stripe of saliva, “just a little taste, my _tesorina_.”

You shiver in his hold, and arousal flickers in your core. Once Toby’s got his mind set on something, there’s no talking him out of it—and it’s not like this would be so bad for you, either. “Where do you want me, Toby?”

Toby hums into your neck, kissing you delicately with his plush lips. “Hop up on the table, baby,” he murmurs. “I want to suck your clit.” More kisses. “Wanna taste your cum.” He pulls back and lifts your nightie up over your hips and off.

You spin to face him, and Toby wastes no time tangling his fingers in your hair as he kisses you.

He walks you back to the dining table, your mouths locked together, and slides his hands down your back until he gropes and squeezes your fleshy, supple ass, lifting you up and closer to him.

You hum, and Toby swallows the sound greedily.

Breaking the kiss, you hoist yourself up onto the table, and Toby plants a chair between your legs. You spread them wider, and a growl rumbles in Toby’s throat.

“Lie back, baby.” He drops down onto the chair, his dark eyes glued to your core. “Give me that pretty pussy.” He scoots closer and wraps his hands around the top your thighs, keeping them spread open.

You murmur huskily, “take it, Toby.” – and he doesn’t waste another precious second.

Toby rushes for your pussy and licks a long stripe upwards, groaning, and when he finally grazes over your clit and lifts off, he mutters, “oh yeah,” before you hear his throat click and swallow.

Then, Toby dives back in. He licks and kisses your pussy lips, slicking them with his spit and smearing your cum all over your flesh. On every other pass of his tongue he points the muscle and circles up around your clit, groaning when he feels the little bud grow bigger under his tongue.

“Sweet little _farfalla_ ,” Toby says into your pussy, his words muffled as he laps noisily at your swollen lips.

The sucks and smacks and slurps of his mouth on your pussy are wickedly hot, and coupled with his hums, grunts and sighs—the sounds are just obscene. He kisses your pussy like he’s just fallen in love, devours it like he hasn’t eaten in days.

His fingers tighten on your thighs, and you should’ve known what was coming next, what he was holding you down for. Toby swirls his tongue around your clit and sucks the whole thing into his mouth.

You moan his name, and he hums onto your bud, then sucks on it like it’s his own little lollipop.

“Jesus!” Your hips buck upwards, but he’s got you. “Yes, baby.” You sit up on your elbows and look down your rounded belly at him. Toby locks eyes with you and sucks harder, audibly, on your clit, and his whiskers graze your lust-swollen pussy lips.

You tip your head back and curse, so you don’t see—you only feel—Toby’s hands come up to caress your breasts.

You sigh, and Toby brushes his thumbs in circles over your budded nipples before rolling the stiff nubs between his fingers—his lips still latched tight around your clit.

Pleasure flares in your core, and through moans you manage to get the words out. “You want me to cum on your tongue, baby?”

Toby stops sucking and presses his flat tongue against your bundle of nerves, then nods in answer to you, sighing hot breath over your pussy as he rubs his slippery tastebuds up and down your clit.

You moan, and then Toby purses his lips and blows bubbles onto your clit, and your sound turns into a shriek. He rubs his lips and tongue side to side through the bubbles of spit on your stiff bud, then groans when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. He flicks over it with his tongue.

“Fuck!” you cry out, arching and rocking into Toby’s hands and face as your muscles in your thighs twitch and shake.

He knows you’re close, and he’s determined for you to burst on his tongue. Toby tweaks your nipples harder, and sucks earnestly on your swollen clit, rubbing his tongue up against it rhythmically.

You’re lit up, seconds away from breaking. “Like that, like that, like that,” you chant, bucking shallowly onto Toby’s mouth.

Toby lets loose the last weapon in his arsenal: a deep, rumbling groan from his chest that vibrates right the way through your pussy and sparks in your clit.

It’s all he needs to do.

“Ohh!” you groan as your orgasm crashes down on you, flooding your veins with light and warmth and pure, crystalline pleasure. Toby keeps his lips wrapped around your clit as you rock and moan through the spasms, and he feels your clit pulse and throb on his tongue as wave after wave of elation sends you into a blissed-out stupor.

You collapse onto the dining table, your legs and core twitching with delightful, arrhythmic aftershocks.

Delicately, Toby licks up your cum. He kisses your inner thighs and the swell of lower belly as you float gently back to Earth.

“C’m’ere, Toby,” you murmur, reaching for him and wanting to make him feel as good as he makes you.

Toby trails kisses up your belly and chest as he leans up and over you. He hovers above your lips, and you pull him close for a sweet, tender kiss—smelling your arousal and tasting a hint of the same on his lips.

You push up off the table, caressing his mouth with yours, and he follows you backwards until he’s almost standing. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and go to tug them down.

“Nno, baby,” he hums a laugh, taking hold of your wrists and kissing along your jaw. “We don’t have time for that,” he says, nuzzling into your pulse point.

“Sure we do,” you reply, but his hands are firmly planted on yours, arresting any attempts at undressing him.

“I got what I wanted.” He trails kisses down your neck. “You gotta go get ready, _tesorina_.” More gentle kisses along your shoulder.

You hum. “So you’ll let me up, Toby?”

“I didn’t say that.”

You struggle to extricate yourself from the man who’s already made you cum twice today—and you’d only been awake for something like two hours. You wriggle free from his arms and kisses and slip off the dining table. You make for the stairs, heading to the shower.

Toby’s eyes hang on the mess you made, the little puddle of slick you left on the tabletop. His hard dick throbs, but he takes a deep breath, and fights the urge to run and join you in the shower. Instead, he licks the remnants of your essence from the corners of his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**XXXX**

You stand in front of the full-length, free-standing mirror in the corner of your bedroom, assessing your completed outfit.

For a short while there it looked like you weren’t even going to get to this point. Soon after you’d showered, Toby had asked you to do his hair for him. So what if you were a few minutes late, he’d said, he loves when you play with his hair.

He’d sat on the edge of the bed, freshly showered and half-naked in black trunks, and faced the mirror. You’d knelt on the mattress behind him, brushing through his waves and setting them gently around his face. You’d sectioned off the top layer of his hair for his man-pony, and braided a lock, before securing it all together at the crown of his head with a black elastic.

You’d pressed kisses along Toby’s shoulders, nuzzled into his nape with your nose and kissed the top of his spine. On a deep exhale his shoulders had eased and slumped, and it was almost tangible, you could almost see the tension leaving his body. When you’d flicked your gaze to the mirror, you’d seen his eyes were gently closed and his brow was smooth and unfurrowed.

You’d suggested getting a couple’s massage for Valentine’s Day, and he’d hummed and murmured deeply, dreamily, “Mmh, ’m a big fan of that, _tesorina_.”

When you’d finished, Toby had been too distracted by your body and unable to keep his hands to himself. So he’d headed downstairs with his [clothes](https://nerdist.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/DONQUIXOTE-04-online.jpg)—light beige slacks, pale blue button-up, subtly striped neutral scarf, and his favourite hat and loafers—leaving you to get ready in peace.

You’d slipped into your bra and panties and mid-length wrap dress, which was a long-sleeved emerald green velvet piece, patterned in a small print of rosey pink, sapphire blue and canary yellow flowers that somehow all worked together. The material was heavy enough to keep you warm in the California winter, and the pattern was pretty and festive for Christmas. You’d paired it with pearls, pink lipstick, and your favourite perfume, before toeing into your black suede, chunky-heeled shoes.

Now, appraising your look, you decide it’s time. Grabbing your black clutch from the walk-in closet, you head downstairs to meet Toby, ready to go.

Well, as ready as you’ll ever be.

Toby was waiting for you cross-legged on one of the armchairs, facing away from the stairs in the direction of the cityscape vista beyond the windowed walls of your apartment. He holds his phone in his lap, scrolling through it. You notice his loafered foot bobbing quickly, tapping against nothing repeatedly.

You click-clack your way over to him, your footfalls going silent once your heels meet the rug. Close to him now, you can see his brow is furrowed as he gazes down at the device. It looks comically tiny in his palm, but you can’t enjoy that right now.

Anticipating an emergency, you place a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, baby?” you murmur, squeezing gently to reassure him you’re here.

“Hnf, just,” Toby grunts unhappily. “Fucking Rupert, can’t take one fucking day. And I told him, I said ‘fuck off and leave me alone tomorrow.’ He knows how important tod—,”

Toby glances up at you then, and all thought leaves him.

“—ay… I.” His brow softens. His eyes trail all over your face and body. “My God. My darling,” he locks eyes with you, “you look beautiful. You’re… ravishing, _tesorina_.”

You could slap Rupert, but you push the thought from your mind. You smile at Toby and pull at the pleats of your dress. “This old thing?”

Toby huffs a laugh through his nose, distracted, reaching out to roll the velvet between his thumb and forefinger. “Come on,” he says, “grab your cake and let’s get the fuck outta here before I fuck you again.”

**XXXX**

The drive from Pacific Palisades to Moreno Valley was, once you were out of the city, cruisy. Toby took you the slightly longer way, so he could drive you through the Chino Hills State Park. He wanted to show you the sweeping hills dotted with shrubs and patches of wildflowers, set against the cloudless, azure sky. The landscape rolled on forever—still, and old, and proud. Patient and unhurried, it let you zoom past and adore it, whispering to you on the wind, _‘take all the time you need.’_

You could tell that Toby loved the road. He loved weaving through the expansive plains, feeling the rumble of the engine in front of him and the asphalt beneath him. He’s a city boy, through and through, sure as they come. He was at home there, and he’d made a very successful life for himself there—but this country, out here. This is where his soul is.

Toby’s [Bentley](https://autonxt.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/2020_Bentley_Continental_GT_V8_4.jpg) roars down the highway, soft top up on account of you (and Toby) wishing to preserve your hair.

“So,” you start, fidgeting with the plastic container in your lap that housed your _panettone_. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right.”

“Ahuh,” says Toby. He flicks you a look over the top of his black Wayfarers. “Sure, baby.” You’ve done this so many times, you both know you’ve got it right, but he lets you run through it anyway, knowing it’ll ease your jitters some.

“Your Dad is, Maurizio. And your mother’s name is Bernadetta.”

“ _Giusto_ , baby.”

“And she’s from Toledo. Sorry, her mother is from Toledo. Originally. And her—your _abuelita,_ is Adina.”

“That’s right.”

“Ok.” You take a breath, and look out the window on your side of the car.

Facing away, you don’t see it, but Toby sneaks another peek at you, trying not to smile. Keeping one hand on the wheel he slides his palm onto your thigh, wrapping his big warm hand around it and squeezing, reassuring. He glides around the turns in the road easily, resting his hand on your leg.

“Your father’s family is from Verona—but we don’t talk about them, his parents in New York—and the cousins are from all over California.”

“Hmh!” Toby hums a laugh. “You should write the Wikipedia page, baby.”

“Hey!” you turn to him, your voice half-serious and half-not.

“Ok, ok,” he concedes, glancing at you briefly. “You’re gonna do great, _tesorina_. Don’t sweat it, baby, honestly.” Toby takes his hand from your thigh for a quick moment, to press buttons on the sound system and hit play on his favourite album.

The shredding electric guitar riff that opens ‘ _Around the World’_ streams through the speakers, and Toby takes gentle, comforting hold of your thigh again.

**XXXX**

It was both too long and too short a drive: you soon you arrive at Toby’s [parents’ house](https://marieflanigan.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/Sleek-Stucco-With-A-Spanish-Influence.jpg). It’s similar to some of the surrounding Spanish Revival homes, but in so many ways different. More elegant, classic, and refined. Crisp white stucco walls contrast sharply with dark-stained, ashen-brown doors, and the large windows are accented with muted, mid-tone blue trim. Red barrel tiles line the low sloping rooves, and a wrought iron balcony juts out in front of a door on the second storey. Climbing fig and banksia vines encase the first floor windows, and frame the arch that leads to the rounded double-size front door. The front yard is manicured, and clearly well cared for, with bulbous shrubs and a neatly mowed lawn, and a curving brick-paved path leading from the house to the kerb.

The sheer mass of vehicles parked here make the property, and the street, look like a car dealership.

“Hnmgh,” Toby grumbles, slowly rolling through and eyeing the cars for a vacant space between them. “They didn’t leave me my spot.”

“Are we late?”

Toby flicks his gaze to his rear-view mirror, then side mirror. “No, baby,” he answers, putting the car in reverse. He lowers his head, and looks at you over the top of his sunglasses. “They’re all early,” he says, with a wink, before putting his hand up on the back of your headrest. He looks over his shoulder and the car rolls backwards, and Toby continues to look behind him as he manipulates the steering wheel with one hand, coolly and casually directing the car with ease and grace into the space he found.

He puts it in park, turns to you in his seat, and tears his sunglasses from his face, grinning. “We’re here.”

You try to smile, but your nerves have ticked up again. This is a big house, and there is a _lot_ of people inside. A lot of people who have no idea who the fuck you are, or why the fuck you’re there: before you even _get_ to Toby’s parents, you’ll have to navigate your way through _that_.

“Hey, hey,” Toby catches your eyes, and gazes deeply into your orbs. “Where’d you go, baby?”

You take a breath. “This is a lot of people, Toby.”

“I know,” he admits. “C’m’ere.”

You pop your seatbelt, and lean in closer.

Toby mirrors you, leaning forward. “I love you.” He presses a kiss to your lips. “You love me?”

You smile. “Yeah.”

“You trust me?”

“Yeah, Toby.”

He places another kiss to your mouth. “Let’s go say ‘hi’.”

You clamber out of the car—made just slightly awkward by the box of _panettone_ you are anxious to keep in-tact—and walk up the pavers to the front door with Toby.

He pauses before the threshold, to look down at you. He presses a kiss to your temple and squeezes your hand reassuringly, before he pushes open the double-door.

Noise erupts from inside the house.

There’s music, the hubbub of many talking voices, laughter, and the happy shrieks of children playing. Stepping inside, the house is cavernously large. A staircase leads up to the second storey, and to one side of it is a living room open to the floor above, full of people sitting, standing, chatting. To the other side of the stairs is a spacious kitchen, and every surface you can see is packed with plates, bowls, platters, and trays, piled high with food and wrapped in cling wrap. People move about busily within it, calling to each other and passing things here and there.

You grip your plastic container hard, feeling like it is too modest a contribution, and squeeze Toby’s hand tight in your own.

“’s ok, baby,” he murmurs quietly, scanning both rooms for the two people he wants to see before anyone else.

“ _Ah_!” calls a voice, from down a hallway to your right you hadn’t noticed. “Is it him? Is it you, Tobias?”

“Here she is,” Toby mutters, just for you to hear.

An older woman approaches with quick, short strides, muttering that she hasn’t got her glasses and then—

“My Toby!” she thrusts her arms out as if waiting for a hug, smiling between her son and you. She flails her arms impatiently. “You gonna kiss your mother or what?”

“’ey Ma,” Toby grins, ducking down to greet her with a kiss to both her cheeks.

She smiles kindly at you as Toby pecks her hello. She says to him, looking at you and smiling, “my son, what treasure have you brought to our home, hm?”

Toby puts a hand on your lower back, and introduces you.

“Oh,” she clasps her hands together, “my dear. That’s a beautiful name. I’m Bernadetta—,” she grabs the _panettone_ from your hands, calls out, “hey, Emilio, take this to your mother,” and thrusts the container into the hands of a startled young gentleman who just happened to be walking past. She turns back to you fluidly, as if there hadn’t been any interruption in the conversation. “Thank you, honey, by the way,” she murmurs quietly, jerking her thumb in the last known location of the _panettone_ , then picks up her voice to the volume it was when she first started chatting with you, “—you can call me Beebee.”

Beebee is a shorter, stouter woman, with rich, chestnut brown, shoulder-length springing ringlets, which are greying very sophisticatedly at the roots. Her eyes, a deep chocolate-y brown, sparkle with happiness; this is a woman who is proud of her smile lines. The smile she beams at you is warm and bright, and her broad lips and slightly hooked nose lend an air of Old Hollywood beauty to her face. Even looking at her makes you feel like you're getting a big warm hug, or sipping a soothing hot chocolate.

“Beebee,” you smile at her, “hi,” – and she holds her arms out to you for a hug, which you graciously give.

“Thank you for the bread, my dear. Really. Did you make it yourself?” she says while she holds you.

“Yes, I did. I hope it’s ok!” you reply, and she pulls from the hug and holds you by your upper arms, leaning back as if to get a good look at you.

“Wonderful,” she says, beaming.

“ _Is that my boy_?” booms a voice from—you don’t even know where. Beebee and Toby both look upwards, before thudding footfalls stomp down the staircase and an older man stops on the last tread of the stairs.

“Tobe,” sighs the gentleman, his face breaking into a broad smile as he crosses the foyer to his son. “ _Mio figlio_ , get in here,” he says, pulling Toby into a hug.

“Heyy, Pop,” says Toby, wrapping his arms around his father.

Maurizio Grisoni crushes his son to his chest, subtly rocking from side to side and clapping Toby firmly on the back. The hug breaks and Pop places a hand on the back of Toby's neck and pulls him in, forehead to forehead. "My good man," you hear Pop murmur, before he pulls away and claps Toby on the shoulder. "Where is this miracle woman, huh son?"

Toby smiles, gesturing to you, “right here, Pop.” He introduces you.

Maurizio has a glittering, playful smile, and you can see where Toby gets both his height and charm from. Pop’s hair is completely grey and styled neatly, and his thick eyebrows are jet black. He wears thin-rimmed glasses over dark, wider-set eyes, and his strong chin and straight, pointed nose signal to you that, perhaps, Maurizio Grisoni was a heartbreaker in his prime. He was still quite handsome now.

“Oh, _che bella_ ,” Pop says, leaning in and gripping your upper arms. He pecks kisses to both your cheeks and repeats your name. “ _Ciao_. Welcome, huh? You thirsty?—"

“Ugh, thanks, Pop,” Toby nods.

“—Hungry? Alright.” He claps Toby on the shoulder. “Come, come meet the cousins. They’re dying to see you, Tobe.”

Toby clasps your hand and drags you along with him, and you smile apologetically at Beebee. She nods, and stage whispers, “we’ll talk later.”

“Hey, Pop,” says Toby, “is _abuelita_ here?”

“Yeah, Toby,” replies Maurizio, “she’s upstairs. She’ll be down soon.” He stops abruptly, and looks at his son. “Ah, my boy!” He beams, overflowing with joy, and cuffs Toby’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his son’s cheeks. “I am so happy to see you, Toby. You look so well.”

“Thanks, Pop.”

“Don’t think for one second,” Maurizio waggles a finger at you, “that I don’t know this is all your doing, my dear.”

Smiling, you glance at Toby, then look to Maurizio. “Toby’s his own man, Pop,” you say modestly.

Maurizio ducks his head, raises a brow, and murmurs with good humour, “that, we can be sure of, no?” He looks to Toby, nudges him in the arm, gestures at you and smiles, “this one, huh? _Perfetta_!”

Pop strides off down the hallway, his pride and happiness almost palpable in the air around him.

Toby looks down at you, his brown eyes shimmering. He presses a kiss to your temple, squeezes your hand, and murmurs into your hair, “what’d I tell you, _tesorina_?”

He leads you down the entryway and there’s another sitting room on your left, and a dining room on your right, which leads back to the kitchen. Both rooms are packed with people, and every horizontal surface is layered with food platters and stands, bowls of punch, bottles of wine and Peroni, and stacks of plates.

French doors in the dining room open first to a covered porch, and then the back yard, where half a dozen or so fellas are rigging up lighting and lanterns on different posts and whatever they can find around the yard, avoiding the rows of party hire tables and chairs spread out on the grass.

Maurizio returns, holding two bottles of Peroni by their necks. He offers them to Toby and points to the raucous din in the far corner of the dining room, saying “they’re all in there, son.” He claps Toby on the shoulder, smiles warmly at you, and then his gaze is caught by something behind you.

He calls out in greeting, and takes his leave, striding down the hall to welcome more people arriving at the front door.

**XXXX**

You sit next to Toby on comfortable dining chairs, holding hands clasped in your lap. He’s got a beer in his other hand—waving it wildly as he tells tales to his captive audience—and you’ve got a fizzy drink in yours. You’re happy to drive home, and let Toby enjoy himself whichever way he chooses.

He wraps up the story about his most recent campaign, to boisterous hooting and hollering from the men around him. His cousins had been hooked on every word, rapt, in awe of the family hero.

Toby drank it in, steeped himself in their admiration.

“So, what’s the story?” says the one called Tony, gesturing between yourself and Toby.

“Yeah, how’d you two meet, golden boy?” Sal adds on excitedly.

Toby takes a sip from his Peroni, and runs his thumb across the back of your hand. “Whaddaya say, _tesorina_?” says Toby as he turns to you, to a chorus of ‘ooh’s from some of the assembled cousins. “Do we tell ‘em?”

You smile at Toby, shrug and say, “why not?” You look to Tony, and Sal. “We met through work, actually.”

“No shit?” Joe pipes up. “How’d that go?”

Toby takes another drink, and smiles at you mischievously. He brings your clasped hands to his mouth, and presses a soft kiss to the back of your palm before re-settling in your lap.

“Alright, alright. Listen up, here’s the story.” Toby pauses for dramatic effect, and the crowd around you hushes. “You guys know how I feel about the industry, y'know. Fuckin' photoshop, CGI bullshit.”—some of the cousins nod—"We had a campaign for... ah fuck baby, who was it?"

"YSL,” you supply for him.

"That's it!" He picks your clasped hands up and drops them down, as if he was slapping his thigh at figuring the right answer. "Fuckin', YSL. They pulled me in for casting and I saw her Polaroid and they—I—I said we get her and these other few models I wanted, y’know do whatever for the ratio but I want who I want, right? And no fucking retouching or I walk, I'm not fuckin' doin' it."

"Right," says Joe, and others nod in agreement. Joe flicks his eyes to you and smiles kindly before looking back at Toby.

"I said to them,” says Toby, “why did they even want me for the job if that's what they wanted, they know that's not my shit."

"Right, yeah,” Leon nods. “Then what, Tobe?"

"Then," Toby looks to you, flexing his fingers where they’re entwined together with yours. "Then I get to the shoot.” He looks back at his cousins. “There's couples everywhere, right, it was a, shooting people in love, in intimate moments kinda, sexy and what not. Perfume, y’know? So. I get there and I see this woman—and remember, I’ve only ever seen her in photographs up to now—and there she is up on the prop bed, and she's looking at her y'know partner. And he's got his back to me, this big fuckin’ guy. Hugo, his name is. Big broad Namibian motherfucker—good guy, does good work—anyway I can only see the back of him but there's _her_.”

“Mm,” hums Lorenzo, tipping his can of Coke into your glass of fizz as if to say ‘ _cheers_.’

“There’s her, right, sitting on the bed with her legs under her. This white gown all over her body and the lighting was just, _fucking_ phenomenal—,”

“Toby,” you squeeze his hand, feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up your neck.

He squeezes your hand right back, and eases off. “Anyway she's talking with this guy, looking up at him y’know he’s standing—foot of the whatever. And she looks like she's telling a joke, y'know?"

"Yeah. Right," Alessio nods, takes a sip of wine.

Toby takes a deep breath. "She’s telling this joke, this story or whatever. She's smiling and talking and this guy is fucking rapt, man, like. I’m lookin’ at him, I’m lookin’ at her, and then she must’a got to the punch line because this big fuckin’ guy bursts out laughing and then she laughed and Joe, Tony, fellas—I swear to fuckin’ God Almighty I thought I was gonna die. Her face lit up and when she laughed her whole body shook and she just looked so fucking beautiful, man. I couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. I thought I was having a fuckin’ heart attack."

He turns to look at you, picks up your joined hands and presses another kiss to the back of yours, then settles your clasped hands back in your lap. "She looked at me and she smiled and I. I fell in love with her, man—fuckin’, fell, crashed, smacked into it—in that _one_ fucking moment.” He rips his hand from yours and pinches his thumb and forefinger together. “And that was it for me.” His hand slides along your thigh. “I was done, I knew it, after that. ‘n’ I haven’t looked back."

Toby sits back in his chair, and it’s like all the cousins take a breath. A sense of calm washes over the group, and they smile with happy, wistful, hopeful eyes.

“Well,” Joe leans forward, holding his beer bottle out to you. “What a story. Welcome to the family,” he says your name, and clinks his bottle against your glass.

In a ripple they all hold their glasses out, and glass chinks together all different kinds of ways, a chorus of ‘cheers’ and ‘welcome’ ringing out before you all have a sip of your respective drinks.

“Toby!” calls a female voice from beyond the assembly of cousins. “Toby,” she huffs, making her way through the bodies until she can peek through in the crowded space. “Pop told me to come get you,” she says. “It’s a _buelita_ , she’s outside now.”

“Oh, thanks, Giovanna,” Toby says, making to get up. “ _Scusa_ , fellas.”

Toby takes your hand and leads you through the crowd, his cousins clapping him on the back as he passes by. You make your way out of the dining room through one of the French doors, and find Toby’s _abuelita_ sitting in the corner—in the middle of a two-seater rattan sofa with a high arched back—pillows stuffed in all around her. A crocheted blanket rests over the elder woman’s legs, and her long, dark grey hair is secured in a bun atop her head with a long hair pin.

Her watery eyes light up when she recognises Toby. “Oh, _mijo_!” She holds her arms out to him.

“ _Abuelita_ ,” Toby murmurs softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his grandmother's forehead. He crouches down in front of her, and you don't catch every quiet word, but Toby definitely says, " _mi chica_.”

Adina smiles at him, cups his cheek, and taps her hand gently against his face. “Ahh, Toby,” she sighs, “you have really done it, have you?” She turns to look at you, and beckons you closer. “Come sit by me, my dear.”

Toby pulls up two rattan armchairs—one for you, and one for him—and sits them opposite his grandmother.

Adina has warm hazel eyes, and her golden-brown skin is smooth and soft looking for someone who is, clearly, in their 90s. Her thin lips look like they have smiled often, and she carries herself with a certain _dignitas_ , which speaks to the years of knowledge and wealth of experiences she has lived in her life.

“Let me look at you,” Adina leans forward and clasps both her hands over one of yours, and stares confidently into your eyes. “Ah, yes. See?” she nods at Toby, then looks back to you. “You are the wish I made for him, this time last year, no?” Her lined eyes crinkle in a smile as she looks from you, to him, and back. “I sat here. I looked at the stars,” she points a bony finger toward the Heavens, “I thought of my Toby and I prayed for you—I did. I see it, now. You are made of Toby’s dreams, my girl. I can see it.”

You smile, "thank you, _abuelit_ —may I call you—,"

" _Sì sì_ ," she brushes it off quickly, like you didn't have to ask. She squeezes your hand, then releases, sitting back against her throne of pillows and folding her palms together in her lap.

“You look happy, my boy,” she murmurs to Toby.

Toby smiles at you, before looking back at her. “I am, a _buelita_. Truly.”

Adina hums. “And what tales of daring and romance can you tell me, about how you won your Lady Dulcinea?”

Toby laughs, and, catching your questioning look, explains, “it’s an old story. Crazy knight, invents this love of his life for himself—,”

“Don Quixote,” says Adina, in a grand manner, “the man of La Mancha, protector of chivalry.” She leans closer, mirth in her eyes, and says, “Toledo, where I was born,” she taps her chest, “is in the old region of La Mancha, and we would talk of this story often. Would we not, Toby? Hm? ‘Would Toby ever find his love?’ ‘Would Toby run across the world for love?’ All questions we asked ourselves.”

“It’s true,” admits Toby, “a lot of questions. And often.”

“And now, look. Here she is, Toby. Flesh and blood, no?” Adina smiles warmly at you, with kind, soft eyes. “Tell me how it happened, now, go on.”

Eager and excited, like he’d been waiting for this very moment, Toby launches into a vivid retelling of how you and he met at the perfume campaign. This version of the story had decidedly fewer swear words in it—none, in fact—and instead Adina was regaled with precious details that had, so far, stayed between you and him. Things like, how Toby thought you looked like an angel, and the most beautiful woman in all the world, from here to the hereafter.

Before he can go further, Beebee calls your name from the dining room. “Honey, would you mind giving us a hand in here?” It’s coming up on lunch time, and Beebee needs all the help she can get.

You excuse yourself to go help inside, and Toby continues his story.

Adina smiles with warmth and heart as Toby speaks. You don’t realise it, but the pair of them watch you fondly, as you help re-arrange the food and drink on the tables inside to make room for more. You help the little ones set places at the table, high-fiving them for a job well done and laughing at their little-kid-jokes, as Toby tells his grandmother about how, after the filming and the photoshoot, he pursued you desperately. While you slice bread and cake into pieces, chatting with the cousins Bianca and Gabby, he tells his _abuelita_ how many long months it took to woo you, and how you made him chase you. How he sent you so many flowers and notes and even a barbershop quartet that one time, until you finally agreed to let him take you to dinner.

Adina grasps Toby’s hand, and the two continue talking as family floods out through the porch, taking seats at the foldable tables on the grass to prepare for the extravagant Christmas feast that was sure to follow.


	3. Chapter 3

**XXXX**

You’ve never been so full, and of some of the most delicious food you’ve ever eaten. There was loads of different pasta of course, plus meats, hearty salads, rice dishes, and so much bread. Looking out across the backyard the many tables are full of lively people, eating and laughing and drinking and talking heartily.

Toby’s family are storytellers, you can see. He sits to the left of his _abuelita_ , who takes pride of place at the head of this particular table. Beebee sits opposite him, and you sit next to him, your chair shuffled closer. He holds your hand in his lap, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

Connie, Beebee’s sister Constancia, nods as Beebee talks about her son.

"There he was, flying off around the world, doing this and that—you know this, Connie.”

Connie nods, sips her glass of wine. “Mmhm.”

“Sending photos that you could, honey,” she gestures at you, “lemme tell ya you could put these on _postcards_ they were that beautiful, in galleries I'm serious."

You don’t doubt her. "I believe you!" You glance at Toby, and smile back at Beebee. “Toby is very talented with a lens.”

"And I worried about him, I did,” she says, gazing at her son pensively.

Toby squeezes your hand in his.

"I thought, I'm never getting grandchildren, I’m never gonna see my son get married. Connie, you know this… but you," she says your name, "you give me hope, honey."

You smile at her, and Toby brings your joined hands to his lips and places a kiss to the back of your palm.

“Ah, see?” Beebee nudges Connie, gestures to the two of you. “Look at them, the young lovers. Oh, they remind me of me and Maurizio, Con.”

“Mm!” Connie agrees, “when he would come to the house. Giancarlo, too.”

“Mmm,” Beebee tilts her head and nods, seemingly lost in memories, for a moment.

“My uncle,” Toby supplies. “You haven’t met him yet. We should go find him.” He looks around at the tables, trying to spot where Giancarlo, or even Maurizio is. The older men all gravitated towards Pop, who always had a great story or a dirty joke to tell them.

“Uh-uh, not so soon, my son!” says Beebee. “I’m not done embarrassing you yet, Toby.”

“Ma,” Toby mutters under his breath, smiling and taking a sip of beer.

Adina chuckles, and Beebee leans closer, launching into stories about Toby when he was a young boy. How he used to play with cars and trucks and trains, but how he also loved playing dress up, making his own costumes and dancing around the living room as a knight or a cowboy or a police officer, always defeating the bad guys and saving the ‘damsel in distress’. How he would stage little one-man plays, her and Maurizio the only audience, before her husband broke into song and little Toby would chant and croon along, pretending to know the words. Her two favourite men in the whole world would put on a concert just for her, in her living room. How Toby loved watching old black and white movies with his _abuelita_ , and would just sit so quiet and still with her while she watched and crocheted blankets for him; and then, after, how she would sing him Spanish lullabies to put him to sleep.

“Ahh, look at me,” Beebee mutters, dabbing at one of her eyes. “Go on, go find your uncle. Let me reminisce in peace.”

**XXXX**

After lunch you help to clear the tables inside. Stacking some empty trays together, you turn to walk through one of the two arches into the kitchen, but you stop when you see Beebee and Pop.

Maurizio swipes a piece from a slice of cake, and slides it into his mouth. Beebee smacks his hand. He gives her a pouty puppy dog face, and she turns her head and shoves at him away playfully, without any real force in it. But Pop catches her hand and presses a kiss to the backs of her fingers. She smiles. He releases her hand, winks at her, and strolls away.

You feel large warm presence come up behind you, and Toby’s arms wrap around your middle.

“Mmh, hey baby,” he murmurs, nestling his nose and mouth into your neck.

He says something else you can’t hear, his pitch and volume too mumble-y, so you say, “what was that, my darling?”

“Said you smell good.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, baby?”

“Mmph! Ffucking, great.” Toby runs his nose along your neck.

“What do I smell like?” you husk at him, tilting your head to the side to expose more of your neck.

“Mmmh, like,” he inhales, “winter berries on a cake.” He places a soft kiss to your neck. “Toffee apple. Fruit flowers on the vine.” He skims up your neck with the tip of his nose. “Wildflowers when it’s hot out.” He inhales your scent again, a big, deep, audible breath in. “Fuck, you smell so fucking good.”

You hum a laugh over his name, leaning back into him.

Toby purrs into your ear. “Wanna take you to my bedroom.”

His breath smells like beer and sangria—musky and spicy and sweet. You feel compelled to ask him, even though the idea sends a thrill up your spine and into your core. “Is that a good idea, Toby?”

“ _Tesorina_ ,” he takes the stack of trays from your hands in one of his and places them on the dining table behind him, “my love, this is the best idea I’ve ever had.”

Toby slips from behind you and takes your hand, leading you through the house. You climb the stairs, hand-in-hand, and as you look around don’t see anyone around who might’ve spotted you heading up here. Toby strides down the hall and stops abruptly in front of a partially open door. “Here, baby,” he says, stepping to the side and letting you walk in first. “It’s a guest room now but some of my shit’s still here.”

You see a bed, a dresser, and a very well-loved wooden desk. There’s two large bookcases and one small one, spread around the room, and all loaded with books and trinkets.

“Bed’s still where mine was.”

You spy a little figure on top of the dresser. The metal is patinaed, but you can tell it is an armoured man with a flat, round helmet. He rests a long spear on the ground, the pointed tip aimed upward, and a long, thin sword hangs at one hip. His free hand is on his other hip, and he stands proudly, the posture pushing his chest out.

You remember Adina’s story. “Don Quixote?” you smile at Toby.

Toby nods, where he leans back against the closed door. His eyes devour you. He murmurs, “C’m’ere, _tesorina_.”

You saunter over to him slowly, exaggerating the roll of your hips with every step. You toy with the ends of his scarf, and look into his eyes. “Is this where you wanted me, Toby?”

Toby curls his whole body as he rushes in to kiss you. He’s on you so quickly, his hands curling around both sides of your neck as he licks your lips open with a satisfied groan.

Toby spins you and presses you up against the door, pinning you with his mouth and his hips. He slants his head to the other side, deepening the kiss and squashing the tip of his nose against your cheek. He glides his tongue with yours, swirling over it and your bottom lip as he kisses you needily. He slides big warm hands up your body, and pushes and squeezes your breasts beneath your dress.

You break the kiss to gasp his name. “Someone will hear.”

Toby plants kisses along your jaw. “Not if you’re quiet, baby.” He smooches down your neck, breathy and insistent, and gropes and massages your breasts with both hands.

You sigh, your nipples budding beneath his fingers, and shift your heeled feet apart.

Toby slips a hand up under your dress as he kisses along your chest. “Fuckin’ delicious,” he murmurs into your skin as he makes a hot, wet trail to the other side of your neck. You tilt your head for him, and Toby can’t restrain the grunting sigh that leaves him as he licks and kisses the join of your neck and shoulder. You push your chest out, and Toby grazes over your nipple with his thumb. He slips inside your panties and groans into the crook of your neck when he finds your pussy already slick and hot and ready for him.

He trails two fingers up and down your slit. “Hmhh, you’re so wet I can hear it, baby.” His fingertips find your clit with practiced ease, and the thick pads slide along either side of your wet, swollen bud, rhythmically stroking it.

Your breath hitches and you rock your hips, seeking even more friction.

“Mmmh,” Toby hums into your neck. “Hope you don’t make a mess in my room, _tesorina_.”

“Oh, Toby,” you whisper, and he crushes your lips with a hot hungry kiss, tipping your head back into the door. Toby sighs as he engulfs your mouth, and you both feel a trickle of your cum drip down your thigh.

“Mmffh, baby,” Toby grunts between kisses. “Do that again.” He strokes your clit a little faster, tilts your chin up with the tip of his nose and makes out with your pulse point.

Your pussy drips again. “Oh, God. Toby,” you murmur breathlessly, feeling your walls seize up.

Toby eases his two slippery fingers inside your pussy, and presses up against your clit with his thumb.

You gasp and moan loudly, knees buckling—before slapping your own hand over your mouth. Your clutch his shoulder for support.

Toby rocks his fingers inside your pussy, and his beaded bracelet jingles on his wrist. He can tell by how tight you are around his digits that you’re close. “Yeah yeah yeah,” he mumurs into your ear. “Just a little one, baby. Just a quick one.” He rubs circles up into your clit. “For me, _tesorina_. Do it for me.”

You cut off your moans as they rise in your throat, your breath catching between puffs and pants of pleasure.

“What’s that?” Toby teases. “Can’t hear you, baby.”

You can’t even be bothered with his teasing. Something about where you are and what you’re doing, combined with his hot breath, wet kisses, and the way he’s rubbing you inside and out, brings you rushing to the edge, your thighs starting to quiver.

“Oh,” he whispers, when your pussy clenches on his fingers, “I felt that, baby.” Toby brushes over your erect clit with the pace and pressure he knows is perfect for you, and he whispers, soft and sexy, “mmh, so hard, baby.”

He hits a spot, tripping your pleasure and you gasp, “there, Toby!”

“Right here, baby?” he coos.

“OhmyGod,” you whisper, clutching his shoulder and the nape of his neck. Toby was gonna make you cum, in his old bedroom, upstairs from everybody, on Christmas Day.

“There you go,” he whispers in your ear, “a quick one, baby, a nice little one til I can get you home.” He rocks his fingers and flicks over your clit once more, twice more; and you break, melting on his fingers.

“Toby!” you moan, and he crashes his mouth to yours, swallowing your sounds of bliss.

**XXXX**

With the sun starting to set, some of the cousins bring out freestanding heat lanterns and set them up in the yard. The fairy lights and lanterns that they’d set up earlier, now come to life.

You stand next to Toby, and he’s got his arm wrapped around your waist as you chat with more of his family.

“Oh, they must be getting ready to sing soon,” says Dani, looking around the yard.

“Oh, yeah,” says Toby, “it’s about that time.” He scouts the clusters of people sitting and standing around the backyard, chatting and joking together. Some of the younger children run between the small groups, chasing each other and laughing themselves giddy. He glances at the house, and there’s very few people in the dining room now: almost everyone is out here, and even for late in the day, the atmosphere is pumping with life.

“Sing, baby?” you ask Toby.

“Mm,” Toby hums, pressing a kiss to your temple absently as he looks around for his father and mother.

“It’s this little thing they do, every year,” says Dani, with a reassuring touch to your arm. “Well, whoever the hosts are. And I guess it’s actually pretty big if we all do it,” she laughs.

She must have read the confusion and slight unease on your face, because Dani goes on to explain—

“Every year Rob and Little Joey bring their guitars and play a song, and the pair hosting Christmas that year dance together to the music. And it’ll be like a Dean Martin or a Frank Sinatra tune, something we all know, and we all just sing along and watch and cheer while they dance together.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say.

Dani smiles. “Y’know it’s so strange now that I think about it, it just happened one year and now, it’s kind of like a tradition.”

“How lovely. So, that’s Maurizio and Beebee, then?”

Dani takes a sip of her white wine and nods. “Yeah, them this year. Some others might sing after, it depends. Last year, at my parents’, the party wrapped up pretty soon after the first dance—but with Maurizio running—,”

At that moment, guitar strumming breaks out over the many conversations, and the chatting becomes cheers. Family gather in a large, loose circle, making a broad perimeter around the yard, and two male voices yell out, ‘’ey, play some Dino, huh?” and “yeah, Dino this year, fellas!”

Dani leans closer and repeats herself over the din. “—with Maurizio running the show, who knows?” Smiling she clinks her drink against your glass of fizz, and turns to face the empty circle.

The guitarists are seated and all eyes track to them. Their strumming becomes stereo, and one of them sings out loudly: “ _in Napoli, where love is king_ —”

Sighs of recognition echo throughout the crowd, and people whack each other on the arm excitedly and look around eagerly.

“— _when boy meets girl_ —”

The volume of the crowd picks up, voices joined together singing along with the guitarists. Maurizio emerges from one side of the circle, and Beebee from the opposite. They gaze longingly, seductively at each other.

“— _here’s what they say_ —"

Toby squeezes you to his side. He ducks down to your ear and murmurs, “know this one, baby?”

“It’s ‘ _That’s Amore’_ , right?” you laugh.

“Right,” Toby grins.

The crowd sings jovially, “ _When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s_ amore,” – and Beebee and Pop stalk across the yard to each other, play-acting at two people trying to woo each other. Every time Pop gets close, Beebee turns away in a flurry. The crowd laugh at the pair’s antics as they sing along to the song. Soon, Beebee lets her husband peck her on the cheek, and people cheer and clap and hoot with glee. The pair hold each other and dance a relaxed waltz around the backyard, beaming and winking at people in the crowd. At one point, in a very coordinated stunt, six bundles of confetti are thrown into the air into the open circle, an action met with raucous applause. It’s so joyful, there’s not one frown in the place.

As the crowd belts out the last strains of the song—“scusami _, but you see, back in old Napoli that’s_ amore”—Maurizio folds his wife into a low dip and plants a big smooch on her lips.

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are one in the applauding mass of people. “ _Brava_ , Beebee! _Brava_!” you call out, as Pop lifts Beebee back to her feet and the two laugh and nuzzle each other’s noses, absorbing the rapt ovation from their family.

You look to Toby, and there is so much happiness beaming out of your face that he can’t help landing a smouldering kiss to your lips. He pulls back, and it’s not enough, so he presses longer pecks to your lips once, twice, and then a third time before he’s satisfied and leans away.

A voice calls out from the crowd, “sing, Maurizio! _Canti_ , sing!” – soon echoed by others

You look around for the source of the voice and Vince is clapping one of the guitarists on the shoulder, saying, “’ _Tu si ‘na’_ , Maurizio, _per piacere_. Please sing, Maurizio!”

Pop makes his way out to the centre of the circle, waving his raised palms as if to quieten Vince, Joe and the others who had called for him. Pop spins on the spot and finds his wife in the crowd; Beebee has just sat down on a seat offered to her next to Adina.

Dramatically, Maurizio places one hand over his heart, and with the other, counts the guitarists in. Little Joey strums, and Rob uses the reverse of the guitar for percussion.

Maurizio croons the first line of ‘ _Tu si ‘na cosa grande_ ’ in fluid Neapolitan—and then quickly calls out to Toby, “my son! Join me, join me.”—before signing the next.

“Where is Toby?” Pop calls between the next two lines.

Toby squeezes your waist and then strolls to Maurizio in the centre of the yard, linking his arm around his father’s shoulders and joining in the next line of the song smoothly and confidently.

Their voices are beautiful together, harmonising sweetly in duet over the sweeping melody of the old classic, the two Grisoni men serenading their sweethearts. Toby looks straight at you, as he sings, telling you in another language how you are a great thing for him, how he falls for you, how he trembles and dies to look at you and how you are his great love.

Tears sting your eyes by the last lines, and as Toby and Pop’s crooning diminuendos into silence and Little Joey plays the last note, the assembled family breaks out in boisterous cheers and clapping again.

You clap and cheer for Toby, beaming at him as he strides back over to you. He pulls apart his scarf as he walks, smiling at your happy face. When he’s just about on top of you, he murmurs breathlessly, “I love you,” before quickly hoisting his scarf from around his neck and looping it around yours, using it to pull you close and kiss you, in front of all his family.

The crowd hoots and hollers, watching on, watching as Toby leans into you and kisses you deeply, and you grip his upper arms to keep steady. You both smile into the kiss, giddy and proud and in love.

You hear Pop’s voice in the background, calling out over the hoots and cheers, “that’s my boy! That’s my son!”

Slow guitar strumming begins again, and now Beebee calls out Toby’s name.

Toby breaks the kiss, his eyes brimming with joy and delight, and pecks you on the nose before spinning on his heel in the direction of his mother. “ _’_[ _He Venido_](https://youtu.be/cQweB0kxPVo) _’_ Ma?” he calls, and Beebee nods.

You clutch Toby’s scarf, where he left it hanging around your neck. It smells like him.

A group of cousins crowd around Rob and Little Joey and break into song, singing in Spanish, right as Toby bends down in front of Adina and offers her his hand. Adina smiles and rises from her seat and Toby walks her slowly into the circle. Gently, he pulls his _abuelita_ close, she of a much smaller frame, and Adina rests her head on Toby’s chest as they slow dance together.

Beebee comes up beside you, and grips your arms in a side-hug. “Oh, honey,” she sighs. “This is her favourite song.”

**XXXX**

Night has well and truly fallen over Moreno Valley. The backyard of Beebee and Pop’s house is lit up beautifully by soft yellow lanterns and fairy lights, and a number of the family have departed home, farewelling Christmas for another year.

Inside the screened-in porch you sit in Toby’s lap, still wearing his scarf, on the rattan loveseat.

“Did you have a good time, my darling?” he murmurs, and wraps his arms around you.

“I did, baby,” you reply, brushing some loose strands of his dark hair back where they belong. You slide your palms along his shoulders and wrap your hands around his neck. “Your family is wonderful.”

“Hmh!” Toby chuckles. He leans up and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Are you ready to get going?”

He gazes into your eyes, then. A long, deep stare. His pupils expand a little, in the low light. He says, “ready to get you alone, _tesorina_. Have you all to myself again.”

You cup one side of Toby’s face, splaying your fingers over his jaw and cheek. You graze his lips with a kiss, and murmur, “let’s go say ‘bye’.”

You slide off his lap and head for the door, getting a few steps before you realise Toby isn’t following. You turn back and find him sitting on the loveseat, leaning his elbows on his thighs.

Toby takes a deep breath in as he looks you up and down. “You’ve still got my scarf.”

You smile and stretch your arm to him, holding out your hand. “C’m’on, Toby. We’ll play later.”

He grumbles and gets up, trudging over to you begrudgingly. He huffs a deep sigh, then nips a quick peck to the spot where your jaw meets your ear before saying, “alright. Let’s go find Ma ‘n’ get outta here.”

You step inside and stroll through the house. You find Maurizio in the kitchen, drying the inside of a coffee cup with a tea towel. He picks up a plastic container of leftovers his wife had made up for you and Toby, and guides you to the living room, where Beebee and Adina sit in cozy chairs by the fire.

“ _Buenas noches_ , _abuelita_ ,” Toby murmurs to his grandmother, pressing a kiss to her forehead. You say your goodbyes to her, and with warm hands she squeezes yours.

Beebee and Pop walk you to the front door.

“ _Mio figlio_. I love you, Toby,” says Maurizio, kissing his son’s cheeks. He holds his forehead to Toby’s, then pulls his son in for a big warm hug. Clapping Toby on the back he says, “be well, my son. And take care of that girl.”

“Love you, Pop. I will.”

Beebee kisses both your cheeks and says, “oh, honey. It was great to meet ya. You have a good trip home and we’ll catch up soon, ok?”

Pop does similar. “Don’t be a stranger, my dear. We’ll see you soon, huh? Real soon, I hope.”

Toby leans down to his mother, pecking kisses to both sides of her face. “ _Ciao_ , Ma.”

“I love you, son,” says Beebee, and Toby returns the sentiment, thanking her for the leftovers and piece of your _panettone_ she included.

You and he amble down the brick pavers back to Toby’s Bentley, hand-in-hand, and the rounded double-size front door to the Grisoni house closes softly behind you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing and no one makes Toby nut like _Tesorina_ does and my mind cannot be changed.  
> This ran on, it’s a biggun, but I gotta tell ya I’m not sorry about it?  
> Merry Christmas y’all, from my ~~pussy~~ heart to yours.

**XXXX**

You sit on your haunches in front of the tree, a wrapped, small-ish sized Christmas present waiting patiently in front of you.

Your eyes follow Toby, who’s finishing mixing himself a drink. He’d crowded you up against the wall when you’d first walked in the door, but you’d managed to convince him: presents first.

Toby pads over from the kitchen on bare feet: hat, scarf and Wayfarers discarded at the entryway. He unbuttons another button on his shirt as he sits down opposite you on the rug, sighing contentedly as he stretches his long legs out and leans back on one arm.

He sips his vodka-ginger beer with another pleased sigh, and you circle one of his ankles, absent-mindedly. You say, “I got something for you, baby.”

“I can see that,” says Toby, his eyes shining and a smile tugging at his mouth. “What’d you do, _tesorina_?”

You take a deep breath, trying to contain your excitement. You push the festively wrapped box toward him. “Open it.”

Toby tries to hide his smile as he leans up and sets his glass on the coffee table. “What’ve you done?” he murmurs as he pulls the box into his lap. He lifts it gingerly, testing the weight of it, and narrows his sparkling eyes at you.

Your face breaks into a grin. He’s got no idea what it is, you’re sure of it.

He lifts the box to his ear, cautiously rattling it a little. When the sound gives nothing away, he whisper-shouts, “what is it?” and smiles so broadly his nose crinkles up.

You shift on your knees, giddy with anticipation and biting your lip to _try_ to restrain your smile. “Open it!”

“Alright, alright.” Toby excitedly rips into the paper and ribbon with his thick fingers.

When it’s all torn up and he sees what’s inside, his face falls. He stares at it for a long moment. His brow pinches as he looks over it, his lips making shapes like he’s trying to remember what words are.

Your name drops from his lips, laced with shocked disbelief. He finally lifts his gaze from your present—a top-of-the-line Sony A6600 camera replete with dozens of fancy features—and his brown eyes are all big and wide, brows raised, mouth dropped open. “Baby… what…”

You’re so happy. He’s speechless. You made Toby Grisoni speechless. “I knew you were thinking about it, so… I wanted you to have it.”

Toby stares at you as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or a figment of his imagination. He takes a breath, looks back at his new camera, then up to you, shaking his head—still processing your incredible gesture. “ _Tesorina_ , my beautiful—come here, baby.”

You crawl the little distance closer to him and murmur softly, “merry Christmas, baby,” before pressing your mouth to his. Toby hums when your lips touch, planting three long pecks to your mouth before breaking away and glancing back down at his present.

“You like it, Toby?” you ask him, sitting back down on your knees.

Toby gazes at the boxed up camera in his lap, transfixed by it. His voice is deeper when he looks up at you and says, “you don’t know how perfect this is.”

You tilt your head to the side, wondering what he means. His voice had gone serious.

Toby sniffs and shakes his head, tossing his hair from his face. He sets the box on the coffee table and reaches around the tree, digging between the jingling, decorated tines like he’s looking for something.

“Aha!” Toby pulls a Christmas-patterned envelope from it’s hiding place deep within the Christmas tree. It’s broader than normal, looks like thicker cardstock too, and tucks into itself neatly. He holds it flat, “for you, baby,” – but when you go to grab it he flicks it upwards, towards his chest and out of your hand. “Come kiss me first.”

You rock forward onto your palms and crawl over to him again. His eyes sizzle as he drinks in the sight of you, his body already responding to the sway of your hips, the look in your eyes. You hook a leg over both of his and sit down in his lap, your dress fanning out, and Toby hums appreciatively. You take your time leaning in close, and breathe onto his lips, “you want a kiss, Toby?”

“Yeah, baby,” he breathes, so so quietly.

You nuzzle the tip of his nose with yours, and rake your teeth over his bottom lip in a gentle bite, pulling softly.

Toby purrs. His hands find your hips, and he squeezes, holding you firmly against him. He’s wanted you, needed you, since before you left your apartment this morning—and now your proximity was stirring up his desire tenfold.

You graze your lips against his, feather-light, and you whisper, “are you sure you want it?”

“Don’t tease me, baby,” Toby mutters quickly, barely able to hold himself back.

You roll your hips, slow, sensuous, and Toby’s breath hitches. He’s filling up, thick and fast.

“I’d never,” you murmur, and lick a stripe up the middle of his lips.

Toby growls and snatches your mouth with his, groaning as your mouth opens to him immediately. He licks over your tongue.

You wrap your hands around his neck and roll your pelvis against his rapidly stiffening need again, and Toby’s self-control evaporates. You turn him on too quick; get him hot too fast.

He breaks the kiss. “Oh, Jesus please,” Toby groans, shoving the envelope to your chest, “open this,” he dives for your neck and sloppily kisses your skin, “tell me you love me,” more hot, wet, needy kisses, and he gropes your velvet-covered ass, “’n’ lemme take you upstairs.”

“Mmh, Toby,” you hum and sigh as Toby attacks your neck with messy kisses. He jostles your body as he paws at the full globes of your ass and tries to grind his clothed erection against your core.

Behind his head you hold the envelope and flip the paper flap open. You gasp: a sharp, loud sound—and Toby stops. He holds you still. He holds his _breath_.

Inside the festive envelope: two plane tickets.

“Toby?” you huff his name out, and for a moment all the letters and numbers swirl on the glossy paper and don’t make any legible sense. You school your eyes to focus. You’ve lost count of all the airplane travel you’ve done, for work—you know how to read one of these.

You see the Alitalia logo. You see your name. You see:

FROM: LOS ANGELES, CA (LAX)  
TO: VERONA VILLAFRANCA, ITA (VRN)

“Toby!?” You flick to the second ticket. It’s the same again, with his name emblazoned on it. “ _Toby_!” You crush your lips to his with tears in your eyes—then you kiss him all over his handsome face, unable to contain your joy.

He chuckles, throaty and deep and happy, as you pepper his face with a thousand little smooches. He tries to explain. “I looked at your bookings. Two weeks free in June. ‘s perfect, _tesorina_. We’re goin’, baby. Wanna show you where my family’s from.”

You stop and lean back, resting your forearms on his shoulders as you gaze into his glimmering eyes.

“Want to take you there,” Toby murmurs your name, smiling softly. He brushes your hair back behind your ear. “Will you come with me?”

You let the tickets fall to the rug below. You bring your palms to rest on both sides of Toby’s neck and lean closer, pressing a soft kiss to his plush pink lips. It’s not feverish, it’s not giddy with excitement—but it’s gentle, and slow, and it lingers there, full of feeling.

“Mmmh,” Toby hums into your mouth. He squeezes one of your ass cheeks in one hand and with the other, cards through your hair at your nape. He holds you to his body as he deepens the kiss, and when you press closer, leaning forward, he willingly leans back and lets you kiss him down to the floor.

Toby’s warm hands trail up and down your back, massaging your luscious cheeks on every pass as you kiss tenderly, lovingly. You find Toby’s buttons, undo some and tug his shirt free from his slacks.

Toby breaks the kiss for air, and you smack messy kisses down his neck and chest.

“Is that a ‘yes’, baby?” Toby murmurs breathily.

“ _Sì_ , Toby,” you mutter into his chest between kisses. You drag your clothed core along his fly, rubbing into his dick to get him fully aroused again.

It doesn’t take long. Not long at all, with Toby. Never.

Toby’s fingers slide up along the bottom of your skull, tangling in your hair, cradling the back of your head as you kiss down his sternum. He drops his head back against the rug, and tilts his hips up to meet yours and grind back against you. “Hhh, God, baby,” he huffs. “I’ve been hard for you since breakfast.”

You start a trail of kisses back the way you came, up Toby’s broad, sturdy torso and chest. “’s at true, baby?” you murmur between kisses. His skin is hot beneath your lips. “You wanted me all day, Toby?”

“A-all day long,” Toby moans as you suck on his Adam’s apple. “All fucking day, _tesorina_.” He leans up and catches your lips in another kiss—this one hotter, wetter: steamy and needy. He trails his palms up your sides and cups your heavy breasts, which, at this angle, hang heavenly in his big hands.

He breaks the kiss to look at your gaping dress, and the view he gets of your cleavage makes his dick pulse. “Jesus, look at these tits.” He squeezes and gropes them, and pushes them together and apart until he’s just _gotta_ taste your lips and tongue again. He caresses your lips with his and swirls his tongue around yours until you groan. “Mmmother of _God_ I wanna fuck you,” he says onto your panting mouth as he rocks his hard cock against your core. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

“Yeah, baby?” You grind against him.

“Hhoh fuck yeah.”

“I want you in my mouth, Toby.”

“Oh, _baby_.” Toby’s head rolls back and he smacks his hands into your ass—just the _mention_ of it sends him reeling.

You hum, and lean down to murmur into his ear, “I wanna feel that big cock on my tongue.”

“Fuck,” he growls through clenched teeth, squeezing your ass hard with both hands.

You find his belt and start to undo it quickly.

“Fuck—shit—n-not here, baby. On our bed.”

Your brow pinches just a little. “Yeah?” you ask him, checking to see if he really wants to stop. “You sure?”

“I got things I wanna do to you,” Toby replies.

The pair of you rush the staircase, climbing the treads quickly. Inside the bedroom you shuck Toby’s clothes off him while your mouths devour each other in hot, passionate kisses. He eagerly lets you strip him of his clothes. You sigh hot air onto each other’s faces as your teeth clack together recklessly—and then: you push Toby towards the bed.

He sits on the edge, breathing hard and completely naked but for his beaded bracelet. You stand before him fully clothed in your dress and pearls, and his eyes are locked to yours as you sink to your knees between his legs.

You place your hands on his knees and spread his legs apart wider, and Toby looses a long breath through rounded lips.

His thick, long dick bobs heavy and hard between his legs. Your mouth salivates to lick it, but you sate yourself for now by wrapping a loose fist around it, and nibbling Toby’s lower belly, nipping at the soft rolls of his stomach.

You gently, softly, stroke Toby’s stiff, hot cock, and he sighs appreciatively. He looks down at you with shimmering eyes and runs his fingers through your hair as you loosely jerk his cock, and kiss and lick and nibble his skin. The teasing tug of your fist, coupled with the press of your lips so close to his dick, sends warm pleasure radiating out from his core, and he groans happily, “mhh. Yeah, baby.”

“Mm?” you hum as you make your way down his happy trail. While you nuzzle your nose in amongst his curls, breathing in his musky scent, you tease just the head of his dick—which draws a breathy sigh of, ‘ohh, oh yeah,’ from Toby.

You release his cock and place your hands on his thighs, locking eyes with him. He smoulders at you, and you watch him watch you as you lick a long, spit-slick stripe up the underside of his dick. Toby breathes a curse the whole time, the ‘ff’ starting when your tongue laps at the base, and the ‘ckhh’ when you lick up the head and off.

“You like that, Toby?” you husk at him, and then do the same again, another slow, wet lick up the length of his cock.

“Shit, baby,” Toby huffs as you slick up his cock with your spit. “Love when you do that, love the way you lick my cock— _yeahhh_.” He groans when you lick quick kitten licks up his frenulum, smiling at him with your eyes. “Put your lips on me, _tesorina_. Please, baby. You do it so good.”

Your fingers flex on his thighs and you suck the head of his dick into your mouth, your lips stretching lewdly around his girth. Toby groans immediately, revelling in the wet heat of your mouth—and you loll your silky tongue around the smooth, stiff, blushing head.

Toby groans, a long, drawn out, rumbling ‘yes’ as your tongue works the head of his cock.

You suck on the swollen head and push your slippery tongue up against the underside, pulsing and rubbing against his flesh with every wet suck.

“Oh my God,” Toby shudders. “Oh, yeah. That’s good, baby.”

You hum as you suck, hollowing your cheeks to make the suction of your lips as tight as can be. Toby’s brows pinch as he gazes at your mouth, and when you take a little more of him, your lips slipping down his shaft, Toby groans. “ _Ohh_ , look at you. Oh, _tesorina_ , sitting so pretty on your knees in your—ff-ahh—Christmas dress.”

You swallow more of Toby’s fat dick into your mouth, and drag your lips back and forth from that spot, to the head, and back again.

“Mmmmet my family in that fuckin’ dress and now you’re licking my cock.”

You pull off and swirl your tongue around the bulbous head obscenely, making wet licking sounds—

“God you look like an angel.”

—before you suck the shaft between your lips again, and run your mouth over it.

“’n’ you suck my cock like you’re the fuckin’ devil.”

You hum and push deeper, taking more of his swollen cock into your mouth. You bring your hands closer to the apex of his long legs, wrapping your palms around his inner thighs and gently squeezing as you bob your lips along his dick.

You look up at him and blink your lids slowly as you go, and Toby is mesmerised. He doesn’t know whether to look into your eyes or watch your mouth work his thick length, so he settles for flitting his gaze between both tantalising options.

“Mh, you suck that dick so good, baby,” he croons.

You hum around his girth and smile at him with your eyes, glinting and sparkling like crystal.

“Yeahh, show me those pretty lips,” he says.

You slow down a little so you can push your lips into as much of an ‘o’ as you can manage—given his size—exaggerating their shape and letting Toby savour their soft, supple wetness.

“Hmmmmh,” Toby half-hums, half-laughs in pleasure, his eyes alight with desire. “Yeah, nice and slow like that, _tesorina_.”

You give it to him: long, languid, slick passes of your lips.

“Mmhyeah,” he groans. “Like one big kiss, huh baby?”

You hum and nod on his dick, and dig your nails a little ways in to his inner thighs.

“Mmff. You like kissing my cock, huh?”

“Mmhm,” you hum, drawing it out like a moan as you drag your lips along his thick length.

Toby shivers. “Go on ‘n’ kiss it. Kiss it, baby.”

You pull off and press a mix of slow, sensuous kisses all around the head of Toby’s dick—some light, chaste little things, others wet, hot and lingering. Your tongue drags across the silky-smooth flesh occasionally, and you let little moans slip out of your mouth as you go.

“Shit, those eyes,” Toby croons. “So fuckin’ beautiful, _tesorina_.” His gaze trails down to your mouth and he’s hypnotised. “Just on the head, baby. Just the tip of it, there.”

“Here, Toby?” you say onto his hard, heated flesh, before caressing it with your lips some more.

“Yeahh. There, baby.” Toby’s face screws up in pleasure. His hand comes up to stroke your cheek, murmuring, “ohh, look at you. You’re so fuckin’ sweet. So good to me, baby.”

He’s so generous with his praise, you know you’re already dripping. You lick a big circle around the head of his cock and then swallow the thick shaft into your mouth again.

“Ahh _fuck_ yeah.” Toby leans back, planting his palms on the bed, watching in awe as you work your magic on his stone-hard cock.

You bob your lips in earnest, going as far and as fast as you can go without things getting uncomfortable—Toby doesn’t like you to do that; he doesn’t like the sound of your struggle. So you suck him deep, and Toby groans, his forehead wrinkling.

He says, “Jeesus Christ. God, baby. How’d I get so fuckin’ lucky to find a fucking mouth like yours? Huh?”

You suck hard, making sure your tongue grazes his dick.

“Ahh shit!” he huffs, his head tipping back a few degrees. He can’t take his eyes from you, though. “Like that. Right there, baby.”

You hum a moan around his fat cock, and Toby’s breath hitches. You take your hands from his thighs—with one you cup and massage his balls, and with the other you do your best to make a firm fist around the part of his cock you can’t reach.

You tug him and suck him in rhythm, your mouth making so much saliva that the wet shuck of every pass is audible over Toby’s sighs and groans.

His head falls back and he laughs through a moan, “oh my God, baby.” He looks back down at you, his eyes black and glazed with lust. “Where’d you learn how to make your man feel so good, huh baby? Did I teach you that, _tesorina_?”

You hum on his dick and move your lips and fist just a little bit faster.

“Oh _fuhhck_.” Toby’s mouth drops open. “Just like that. Umff—beautiful. Just like fucking that, baby.”

Toby can’t believe you, the way you work him up, get him hot and sweating, make him feel so fucking good. The way you look up at him while you do; Christ you’re so fucking sexy. He feels the squeeze in his core, feels his balls starting to draw up.

“Ahfuck.” He cups your cheek, and you slow down, moving with his hand. He says, “shit, baby—my nuts are getting tight already. Slow down, _tesorina_. Slow right down for me.” He eases you off his dick, and your lips lose suction with a wet pop. “That’s it. C’m’ere,” he coos to you.

You stand from the ground slowly, and on impulse, you lift your dress up and off your body, tossing it to the ground. You stand before him in your bra and panties.

You see him curse, ‘fuck,’ – but no sound comes out of his mouth.

You smile and bring your hands up to your breasts. You cup them, squeeze them through the lace, and say huskily, “you didn’t wanna cum in my mouth, baby? What do you want, Toby?—"

A deep growl rumbles in Toby’s throat.

“—You wanna squeeze my tits together with your big dick in between?”

Toby’s head tilts to the side and drops back a few degrees. His eyes squint and narrow, pleading and hungry and almost hurting—it almost _pains_ him that you’d suggest such a thing, looking as damn good as you look right now, when there’s so many things to wants to do to your body.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he blurts desperately, grabbing your hands from your breasts and throwing your arms around his neck. “Kiss me, _tesorina_.” He gropes your ass and kneads your supple cheeks.

You rake your nails along his shoulders and run your fingers through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, before you kiss his full, flushed lips.

Toby hums and sighs as your tongues swirl together with desire, with need. His hands fly to the hook-and-eye closures keeping your bra together, and he unclasps them deftly. He tugs the straps down your arms hastily as he kisses you with passion, and your hands snap right back to tangle in his hair as soon as he throws the lacy thing away.

He grips one of your fleshy ass cheeks through your panties and with his other hand, slides a finger between your thick thighs and along your clothed core. He groans into your mouth before breaking the kiss, panting. “Oh, baby,” he rasps. “You soaked these.”

You nose his hair away from his ear and suck on his lobe, before licking up the shell.

A shuddering groan rumbles through Toby’s chest. “HhhI wanna eat you from the back. Please, _tesorina_. Hands and knees for me, baby. Up on this bed.”

You rake your teeth over his lobe once before slithering past him and clambering up onto the bed. You make sure to graze against him with your body as you go, knowing that skin-on-skin contact drives Toby wild.

When you’re in a comfy spot on the bed with your ass up, Toby gets into position behind you. He tugs your panties into the crease of your ass, exposing your full globes, and gropes and squeezes your meaty cheeks.

You rock back into him, pressing back into his firm, warm hands. You shake your hips a little, jiggling your flesh.

Toby hums. “Jesus I love this fat fuckin’ ass, baby. So goddamn,” he spanks your cheeks, both at once, watches them ripple, “thick.” He kneads your cheeks in his hands and curls down to press kisses to your skin, letting his teeth graze over your flesh.

You push your ass onto his face and sigh, “yes, Toby.”

Toby slinks down lower, spreads your cheeks apart and holds you there. He presses his face to your core and sucks on your soaked panties.

You moan his name, and Toby groans into your clothed pussy. You feel his lips and tongue through the lace, his hot exhale as he sucks and licks and laps at your underwear.

Toby sucks all he can of your arousal from your panties. He grips the waistband of the lacy material and starts tugging your underwear down over your ass. “Get these off, baby,” he says as he helps you kick out of them, “show me this pretty pussy, lemme see it.”

Toby tosses your panties away and settles back behind you again. His big hands spread your cheeks wide, opening your pussy to his gaze and his mouth.

“Oh, baby,” he croons, and his hot breath ghosts over your slick, puffed up pussy lips. “Look at this wet pussy.” He flattens his tongue and licks along your folds, groaning, “mmmhh,” as your sharp sweetness coats his tongue. “Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, licking from your clit to your opening. “My pretty _farfallina_.” He loves drinking your cum, loves sliding his tongue over your silky, slippery, puffy lips. He flicks the tip of his tongue over your stiff clit.

You drop to your elbows and arch your back to give him more of the swollen little bud, and you moan and groan as Toby licks you over, rocking back onto his face.

Toby grunts and sighs as he eats your cunt—muffled sounds of, “ahhmmh,” “mmhhff,” “mmuhff,”—and he shifts his hands lower to pull apart your fleshy outer labia and bloom your pussy open wider.

Looking into the depths of your pussy, Toby’s breath stalls half-way through a grunt, and the next thing you know his tongue is driving hard into your tight hole.

“Ohh, Toby,” you moan. “Yeah, point your tongue, baby.”

Toby does as you say and when you throw your hips back, fucking yourself on his tongue—he sees stars. He grips your hips hard and helps pull you back onto his face, loving how your luscious cheeks bounce off his own. His nose nudges into your puckered asshole and Toby decides, he wants to make you cum like this.

He reaches one hand underneath you, between your legs. He makes a fist and rubs the backs of his fingers, right up against the front of your swollen clit.

“Toby!” you cry out—and he rubs faster. Hot air from his noisy tongue-fucking fans over your folds and your asshole, and he rams his tongue inside your pussy in rhythm with your bouncing hips, meeting you thrust for thrust.

“Oh my God, Toby,” you gasp, “if you don’t stop I’m gonna cum. _Shit_.” Your pleasure winds tight, compressed like a coil about to spring free.

“Gnguhhh,” he groans into your drooling pussy, “mhh, mhh.”

You feel it building, rising, about to overwhelm you. “Toby,” you huff, but he doesn’t let up.

You repeat his name, in a moan, and again, in a longer moan—but Toby persists.

Then, he rubs against your clit _just right_ , and you can withstand it no more. You cry out, “Tobias!” and fall to pieces on his tongue.

You cum in his mouth, all over his face, and shake and tremble through the spasms. Toby holds your hips as your pussy convulses in pleasure, letting you use his tongue and lips however you need to ride out your bliss.

When the clenching subsides, you shiver with arrhythmic remnants of pleasure as Toby presses gentle kisses to your ass cheeks and the backs of your thighs.

You pant his name, and Toby says, “God, you’re fucking stunning, baby. Can you stay like that, _tesorina_?”

You puff, still coming down from your blissful high. “Like this, Toby?”

“Yeah,” he leans up, smoothing circles over your ass. “I wanna fuck you from behind, ‘n’ watch that pretty face in the mirror.” He points towards the large mirror in the corner. “Wanna see your face when I make you cum again, baby. Can you stay on your knees for me?”

Toby’s words send another aftershock through your core. “I can stay, Toby.”

“You’re not sore?”

“No, baby.”

“God, I love you.” He feels he must’a leaked about a litre of cum from the tip of his dick tonight, and he’s so fucking ready to fuck you good and deep, to love you outta your goddamn mind. “You ready for my cock, _tesorina_?”

“Yeah, Toby.”

“You want it, baby?” He pumps his cock, testing—and he’s so hard. So fucking stiff and ready for you. In _need_ of you.

“Tobias,” you husk, “give it to me. Gimme that big dick.”

He hums and grips the shaft at the root and guides the head through your sumptuously slick pussy lips, groaning, “ohsh- _shit_ ,” as he coats the topside of his dick in your silky cum. He slides the head all the way along your folds, nudging your clit at the end and teasing your opening at the top. “I want this pussy so bad, _tesorina_ ,” he murmurs, his dark gaze transfixed on your core.

“How bad, Toby?” You rock your hips, sliding your wet pussy against his thick, hot, stiff cock.

“Fuck, baby. You’ve got no idea. I need you,” he murmurs your name, “so fuckin’ bad.”

“Don’t wait, Toby. Put it in me, give me all of it.”

Your words shoot through him, and his cock throbs so hard and insistent he feels his pulse beating in it. His head’s swimming, and he’s not even inside you yet.

Toby grips his sticky shaft and presses the head up against your opening, easing apart your labia and making it butterfly around his crown.

“I’m gonna give you every inch, baby,” he says. “Wanna make sure you feel it.”

You tell him yes, tell him you want it, tell him you need it, now.

He rolls his hips just slightly, letting the head of his dick catch inside your hot, sweet, slippery hole, and then he grips your hips. He slides in slowly, and a ragged groan tumbles from his throat when he feels your slick pussy yield for him. Your walls hold him close, hug him tight, and suck hard to welcome him deeper. Toby’s in Heaven.

“Christ Jesus,” he splutters out, strangled and breathless. “Oh, God. Fuck I love how wet you get when you cum,” he murmurs your name—and feels your pussy flutter around him in response. “Yeahh. Fucking, flooding my cock, baby.”

You gasp as he stretches and fills you, your pussy quivering to take him. “Toby,” you breathe, “you’re sso big. OhmyGod you’re so thick.”

Toby groans at your words, and he shudders as he says, “mmy _tesorina_ likes my thick cock?” He’s almost all the way inside you, and it’s taking everything in him not to bounce you on his dick right fucking now. He glances up at your face in the mirror, just in time to see you say—

“Mmm, I like it. I love it, baby,” you sigh breathily, and feel Toby’s pelvis press flush against your backside.

“Oh, thaat’s it,” Toby moans. “Your pussy took all of it, baby. Took all my fuckin’ cock.”

You roll your hips in a circle, teasing him, and a deep rumbling groan rolls through Toby. He squeezes your ample hips and draws his pelvis back, until just the head of his dick is inside you. “God I hope you’re ready, _tesorina_ ,” he says, gazing into your eyes through the mirror. “I wanna make you scream.”

You get as far as saying his name, before Toby plunges deep inside your pussy and sets a brisk pace. The rhythm of his thrusts rubs your insides deliciously, and you cry out in pleasure after the first three strokes, unable to stop yourself making sounds after that.

If you had to guess, you’d say Toby likes it too.

“Ohh,” he groans, “you feel so good, baby. Ahh—shit—this pussy feels so fucking good.”

You push back into him, trying to hold firm against the quick bucking of his hips. Your sighs of ‘yes’ and moans of incoherent words ring out in the room, drowning out the slick squelch of your soaked pussy as Toby drives into it over and over.

“I know, baby,” Toby grunts. “Yeah, I know.” He already feels sweat beading at his lower back, and he’s mesmerised by your rippling, bouncing flesh. “Who fucks you so good?” he pants, flicking his gaze up to watch your face and feeling a sharp spike of pleasure at what he sees. Looking at you through the mirror, he huffs and puffs, “who fucks you this good, baby?”

You moan his name—and he groans and drills into you harder, hearing and seeing you do it—“oh, you, Toby. It’s all you. Always you, Toby. Fuck.” Reflected in the mirror you see him, kneeling behind your bouncing, jiggling ass, and the way his stomach and chest muscles tighten and twitch with every deep, quick thrust. You see his collarbones pop and his muscles in his shoulders and arms flex as he grips your fleshy hips tight. His hair fans about his face as he watches his cock drill into you, a lock falling loose from his pony.

It’s so fucking erotic, you start to rock your hips back against him, matching his rhythm and meeting him in the middle.

“Ohh fuhhck.” Toby’s just about losing his mind. “Yes, _yes_. Throw ‘em back, baby. Gimme those hips.”

Your moans go deep, guttural: Toby’s cock is hitting so deep inside you, ploughing your pussy perfectly. You feel it already, another orgasm stirring in your core—your fifth one today.

Toby does things to your body that no other man could even dream of.

“Back up on me,” he grunts. “Yeah. _Yeahh_. Just like that, baby.” He lands a spank to one of your rippling, jiggling cheeks. “ _Fuck_ yes, fuck back on me like that.” Toby glances at the mirror to find your face scrunched up in pleasure as your noisy pussy flutters around his cock.

“Fuck!” he grunts, delving inside you, burying his dick deep and holding there. “ _Toccati_ , baby. Rub your clit.”

You reach down and glide your fingertips over your engorged bud, and it makes your pussy clench on his dick.

“Fuck yeah,” Toby murmurs quietly. He holds the outside of your thighs and says, “bring these together, baby,” as he manoeuvres his legs outside yours. You bring your thick thighs closer, and your clit feels even bigger and harder like this. Toby’s legs cage yours, and your pussy is wrapped so tight around his cock—he’s sure he’d cum if you so much as laughed, or sneezed.

Toby starts to roll his hips slowly, thrusting sensuously into your pussy—and the groan that leaves him is one of the deepest, loudest sounds you’ve ever heard him make. Like it’s coming from his gut, not from his chest.

From behind, with your legs closed like this, every sensation is amplified. Toby’s so thick inside you, stretching your pussy out and grazing along every wall he can find. It’s so good, it makes your eyes water. Makes your knees tingle and quake loose like they’re not keeping your legs together anymore.

Toby picks up speed, starting to _really_ fuck into you again. He grips your hips and grunts with every thrust, his balls slapping and clapping against you. He pounds you deep, and it takes you a moment to realise you can’t understand him when the rambling tumbles from his mouth.

“Aahffuck,” he groans. “Fuck, baby, you. Uhhgh, _cazzo_ , _come sei ss-stretta_.”

“Toby,” you moan, “baby—,”

“Shit. _Shit_. _Come ssei bagnata, tesorina_.”

“Baby, English, Toby.”

“Christ,” he grunts—and you see him in the mirror, head thrown back as his hips buck into you hard. “Shit, you’re so tight,” he translates for you. “So wet. Fuck I love fucking this pussy.”

Your walls clench, and you swipe over your clit every time he bottoms out. Your pleasure builds and heightens, and you moan something you learned the other day and have been saving for him. Something you’re sure will make him crazy. “ _Sì_ ,” your moan wavers as he drills your pussy, “ _scopami_ , Toby.”

“ _Fuck_!” Toby grunts loudly, just barely squeezing and clenching his gut in time to hold off exploding inside you. He pounds you harder, deeper, faster—and it’s noisy and sloppy. “Like this, baby?” he huffs and puffs with exertion, “fuck you like this?” He watches your ass ripple, sees how your arm disappears between your legs and jerks—he can’t see you work your fingers on your clit but he _knows_ you’re doing it—and he watches your face contort with pleasure, on the brink of bliss on his fat cock. “Yeah, fuck you like that. I know, baby. You like it like this.”

You cry out. You’re right there.

“Don’t stop,” Toby grunts breathily. “Don’t fuckin’ stop rubbing that clit, baby.”

You’re so fucking close, teetering on the edge. “Tobias!”

“Yeahh, baby,” Toby groans.

You catch his dark eyes in the mirror, and you fall apart.

“Fuck, Toby I’m cumming—!” Your words are cut off as you scream, your orgasm hitting you hard and shaking you to your bones. You’re blinded, a pulsing, convulsing speck as Toby fucks you through it. You gush hot and wet all over his cock, and Toby crumbles. Your pussy walls squeeze his thick dick and his orgasm rips through him. He grunts and groans loudly, moans your name as he pumps your spasming pussy full of his load. You milk his cock, drawing more and more cum from his balls until he’s drained and dizzy, until the pair of you shudder and gasp and sigh with the last of the euphoric clenching and contracting.

Toby pants, trying to slow his breathing. “Hmhh, mmy _tesorina_. I waited all fuckin’ day to do that to you.”

You hum a laugh, your knees and arms jelly and barely able to keep yourself up any longer. “Worth the wait, baby?”

Toby groans his assent, then gently slips his spent cock from your puffy pussy. He kisses up your spine, slow, soft kisses with his luscious lips, then flops back onto the mattress, pulling a pillow beneath his head.

“Don’t go anywhere yet, baby,” he sighs, knowing he made a mess of you—and himself—but not wanting to go deal with it yet. “C’m’ere, I wanna hold you.”

You snuggle in close, leaning on Toby’s chest and tracing patterns into his sternum, resting one of your legs between his. He strokes up and down your side with soft fingertips, and you lay entwined together, breathing softly as your feet touch ground again.

A long moment passes, and you think back on the day you shared with Toby. How he opened another part of his life to you, and welcomed you into it with warm, wide-open arms. You lift your head to press a kiss to his chest, then settle on him again, murmuring, “thank you for bringing me into your family, Toby.”

Toby squeezes you close to his body and presses a kiss to your hair. “ _Tesorina_ ,” he murmurs, “baby, you are my family.”


End file.
